The Bygone Wish
by Lazee Felix
Summary: This is my take on XXXHOLiC prequel i.e before Watanuki lost his memories as a price mentioned in Tsubasa Chronicles.


**Disclaimer**_**:**_I don't own XXXHOLiC. It belongs to wonderful ladies at CLAMP.

**Pairings:** Yuuko X Kimihiro

**Rating:** T

**Summary:**This is my take on XXXHOLiC prequel i.e before Watanuki lost his memories as a price mentioned in Tsubasa Chronicles.

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><p><em><strong>The Bygone Wish<strong>_

Watanuki Kimihiro. It was not his real name. A name given by his parents though fake. Something that told about him but not in so many words. Yes it was _his_birthday, April first but not his own. He hadn't even had a proper birth, a split from his real self, giving him freedom of individuality but not choices. Though his ocean blue eyes and a brave heart did reflect in his second name 'Kimihiro', he wondered what his parents did name him.

Of his earliest memories, he remembered a dark abyss and thundering voices something he couldn't really make sense of but still somehow knew what they meant. Of one firm but sensual voice that held him together, guided through the darkness and anchored him to his fettered reality.

He remembers those wisps of sweet incense that clouded the room. Fog of smoke curled around a figure that resembled a stretching feline but belied the lethality of a striking snake.

He remembered spending most of his life in this 'shop'. This shop had been his home. His parents wish had brought him here again, with Yuuko-san. A woman he respected for what she was, what she represented. He knew that he owed his existence to his parents but knew he was not borne of them.

Hitsuzen had made it imperative for him to spend most of his time in this place; to bide away his ill-fate. Of all places where he was safe and could keep his parents safer was this place. Though his parents had to leave him at such an early age, he could still feel an affinity that bespoke volumes of love for their only child. He tried to convince himself that 'This was the only way,' but try as he might, he failed, miserably.

He learnt what Yuuko taught him, he even attended classes with 'Oji-san'. Funny, while Yuuko made him think of an endless garden filled with blooming flowers, mist and butterflies, Oji-san reminded him of his life apart from the mystery, to the reality of the night. Of the creatures, of legend, of yokai, of the sinister truth and supernatural that was a part of his life. He wasn't sure but he still would have believed what he had first thought of him; a bat out of hell.

He knew more than what was passed into the shops, his power, his magic and his abilities, how to harness them and how not to misuse them.

He also learnt more about her everyday by finding more about himself. She would recline into the settee and watch him intently. Sometimes those ethereal eyes would fill with something he was hesitant to guess.

She would often talk to him about someone she knew but look from corner of her eyes as if to see if he reacted in a way she wanted.

She made him work all the way through that place; a price to his boarding, she said. Perhaps she was just plain lazy but he knew she had been lonely. He wondered if she could take care of herself if he ever left her.

Some nights she would sit close to him and drink sake watching the night descend. She would whisper nonsense in his ear trying to make him uncomfortable or perhaps something else. He would blush hard and pray that the night would be merciful enough to hide it.

Sometimes he would answer, other times he would just gaze as hard into those dark purple eyes wishing and dreaming for that one wish of hers.

Then she would blatantly ask him if he preferred older women with a lazy grin on her moist lips and mirth in her voice. But her eyes were a telltale in all.

Not so subtlety, she would wind her fingers with his and kiss him full out and keep murmuring, "Did you miss me?"

Yes, _he_missed her every moment. A voice in his head would answer. A foreign but familiar feeling would envelope him into submission as she would slowly lean onto him and rest on his chest.

Sometimes she would weep, other times she would quietly talk. Not often she would caress him, play with his hair or do things that made him hide a painful grin that stretched across his lips as blood rushed to his cheeks whenever he thought about it in the light of the day.

He would then hold her tightly against himself as he slept with his face in her chest and her arms around his back. He loved those nights, hidden away in that warm cocoon away from his own depressing thoughts and painful life.

But those were the only things that kept away the overwhelming pain in his heart. When he thought she was sleeping, he would let out those tears that he held back, those feelings that he reigned in strongly within himself, that weight he carried around, that dragged him down in his nightmares to that dark abyss he tried to claw his way out of.

She was always there with him, soothing him with gentle fingers that probed his scalp and his back, murmuring words that embalmed his tortured soul.

Those nights he was most fond of.

He stood with his most precious thing in his hand. A golden pocket watch of the lost era, engraved with two doves, his name and birth date. It was adorned with roman numerals and delicate hands which showed time. It hid the only thing that bound him to life. An old picture of him with his parents. Even if he felt undeserved of their love, he held to it all this time as if it would be his lifeline. A hand closed over his and brought it between them. A finger slid to his face and wiped away a stray tear that had escaped his stinging eyes.

Yes. He would most definitely miss his most precious one. If only for those few moments but he knew that their parting would be unbearable. Especially, on her part.

He cursed his accursed life and embraced her tightly, desperation mounting in his heart. She reciprocated by holding him even tighter.

A few moments later, he stepped away a bit to appreciate her in a way that could be his last. Her eyes were somber and hidden behind those lush eye lashes that were wet and decorated with tears. She was dressed in that black ensemble, her hair pulled away from her shoulders, just like that night.

She looked so aloof from everything around her but still in so much pain hidden away in those beautiful, half lidded burgundy eyes. His heart wrenched when he heard her speak those terrifying words. A tone that bore business and already shadowed a time spent together.

"What is your wish, Watanuki Kimihiro?"

No, no. He...he didn't wish for this. 'This was the only way,' he tried to convince himself but failed miserably.

Small rivulets flowed from his eyes and ran down his face.

"I shall make your wish come true." She spoke. Though her voice wavered in the end was his belief.

His vision blurred and his head ached. Winds swept around him and he floated above her circle that glowed in electric blues.

The pain became overwhelming and the darkness he dreaded edged around his vision. She reached a hand to him but her face was the last thing that registered to his diminishing conscious. And his last thought was-

'I will miss you too, Yuuko.'

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><p><strong>AN:**For those only familiar with the anime, first 'his' refers to Syaoran and second 'he' reference is for Clow Reed. Perhaps I can extrapolate on this to write more than just a one-shot. Maybe.


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